Keys
by Lovedrr
Summary: Who holds the keys?


"I am he that liveth, and was dead; and behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death."

Revelation 1:18 KJV

—

"Whatever it takes."

His own words echoed back to him as he stared out over the barren landscape around him.

Vormir.

The atmosphere was dark, cold and desolate. There was no beauty here, no loveliness, and no life. Here existed only sacrifice and death.

Yet, therein lay the key to victory.

Sacrifice.

Not his own.

But that of another.

Death. Burial. Resurrection.

Gazing over the darkness of the land, Steve "The Captain" Rogers stood purposefully.

He had come to return the soul stone.

However, that wasn't the only reason he had come. She had been lost here. She was gone, but some part of him still hadn't let her go. He was going to do everything he could to bring her back. She'd do the same for him.

As Steve looked over the terrain, he sensed something coming. Kneeling down to one knee, he lowered his head and closed his eyes.

He prayed. He prayed hard. He prayed for her.

Natasha.

Steve was drawn out of his prayer by the feeling of a figure approaching. Standing to his feet, he stepped forward, ready for the confrontation.

A black cloaked ghostly red faced figure floated toward him. Steve immediately felt a familiarity, but it still took a moment for true recognition to set in.

"Rogers. Steven. Son of Joseph. I am not surprised that it is you who has come to bring balance, Captain."

"This is what happened to you, Skull? After that day on the plane?"

"You were my final battle, Captain, leading to this miserable destiny in which I have been imprisoned. A fitting fate for the pursuit of power, I suppose."

"I'm here to return the stone … and I want her back."

"You cannot have her."

Steve's arm tensed on his shield.

"I'm not going to ask you again," said Steve.

"You cannot have her because she is not here, Captain."

"Where is she?" Steve asked with an intense frown.

"There are times … sometimes … seldom … when the soul does not remain here. When I first witnessed it, I was perplexed. But then, as I've had much time alone, knowledge was given. The soul stone does not have ultimate dominion. It is merely a tool. After all, not this world … nor the stone … are The Creator of souls. Only He has omnipotence."

"Where was she?"

In answer, the Skull only floated to the side, allowing Steve a clear path to a solitary plateau.

Steve walked over to the ledge, his feet slow, his heart heavy, his spirit weak. As he gazed below, the soul stone began to glow of its own accord, and Steve saw her.

Natasha … lying there … sacrificed.

Before he even realized what he was doing, Steve was climbing down the cliff. He held back the tears which wanted to fall from his eyes. His only thought was that he had to get to her. Nothing else mattered.

Reaching the bottom, he dropped to his knees.

"Christ, please …," he sobbed brokenly.

No longer able to hold back, a single tear slipped from his eye … to drop onto the rock where she had been …

… and the single tear was suddenly a shallow lake. He was lying on his back in the middle of it. Steve tried to sit up, but he couldn't. There was a sharp pain in his ribs, along with an empty missing sensation, as if one of them had been removed, and he felt too weak to even move.

It felt … as if his soul … had been … split asunder.

Then, he felt someone beside him, joined with him, shoulder to shoulder, a hand inside his own.

His head fell to the side.

Ethereal … resting in the water … a peaceful visage on her lovely face …

Natasha …

Steve sat up like a shot. But when he looked back beside him, she was gone.

The soul stone was gone, presumably returned back to its place.

Looking up to the stars of heaven, Steve closed his eyes …

—-

She was running.

Hurrying as fast as she could.

Every part of her body hurt from the battle, but she only felt one thing as she ran.

Terror.

Everyone around her was fading away. First turning grey, then to dust, then to lost particles.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Like The Good Book says.

Almost as if it were The Rapture.

She had read The Bible, cover to cover, during her years with her special friend. It was his vocation, and she hadn't minded learning from him. He had always been her rock.

Feelings of guilt tore through her as she forced her legs to struggle forward. People were fading away all around her, maybe all over the world, perhaps all throughout the universe, but there was one person on which her mind focused above all others.

She turned a corner of foliage to find him, alive, leaning over a lifeless Vision, but he was still there.

Steve "The Captain" Rogers. Her Captain. Her Steve.

Natasha clutched at her stomach, the dissipation of the intense dread at the thought of losing him causing a constant ache.

Then, the memory changed. Steve, like so many others, began to fade away.

Natasha's eyes widened in terror. No. Please. Not this. Her worst nightmare.

In the midst of disappearing, Steve turned, reaching a hand out to her.

"Nat, I … I lov …"

And he was gone. Before her own outstretched hand could touch him.

Broken, Natasha dropped to her knees. In solemn desperation, her hand reached out to touch the ground where Steve had been only a moment before, a lifetime of words left unsaid now stolen away.

At the moment that her hand felt the cold hardness of the empty ground, she drew a sharp gasp …

/

… and sat up in her bed.

A nightmare.

Natasha's eyes were wet with tears, but only a few of them slipped from her eyes. Before she had a single coherent thought, she was up and running.

She didn't remember tearing out the door. She didn't remember the drive.

Only rushing out of the car did she for the first time start to notice the frigid concrete under her bare feet, the pouring rain drenching her hair, and the freezing cold air turning her skin pale.

Natasha was finally jarred from her reverie by the feeling of hard wood under her pounding fist.

For a moment, there was no movement, no sound, and her heart turned to ice.

Then, the apartment door opened.

There they were.

His blue eyes.

The sea of crystal cerulean in which she had always secretly longed to swim.

This was the one thing she had needed. Simple. Affirmation. Proof of life.

At the sight of her, Steve paused. His strong eyes immediately belying the softness of his heart for this particular woman so special to him.

Completely disheveled, Natasha stood at the door of his apartment. She was shivering, clad in only her sleepwear of a thin tank top and form fitting sweat pants. Her lovely hair was drenched, her reddish blonde curls dropping beads of glistening rainwater down onto her gorgeous little bare feet. Her eyes were manic, pained, desperate.

There was a fear there unlike any other he had ever seen in their depths before.

Without another second of hesitation, Steve snatched Natasha by her arm and pulled her into his foyer. In the next moment, her feet were lifted off the floor as he drew her into his strong arms and crushed her against his chest. Floating in the air, only then did Natasha feel herself start to breathe again.

After a long while, Natasha tried to find her voice. "I … I didn't mean to do this. Just … had a dream … nightmare … you … you faded away … like everyone else … I'm sorry …"

"It's okay. It's okay," Steve comforted, holding Natasha tighter as she started to pull away. "I had … I had the same dream."

He understood what she was feeling because … he felt the same for her. At his words, Natasha finally let go. It was the first time she had allowed herself to feel the true depth of loss and grief since their final battle in Wakanda. Once the floodgates were open, they didn't stop. Steve had been the only person in her life to ever see her cry, the only man with whom she'd ever felt safe enough to truly open herself. Burying her face under his chin, she cradled his neck and let the tears fall. Natasha let herself fall apart, knowing that Steve would be there to put her back together again.

Reaching down to cradle her in his arms, Steve carried Natasha over to his sofa. He sat down, holding her across his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck while he held her hips, breathing in her hair.

After some time, neither of them knew how long, when the tears had slowed to a trickle, Natasha started to tremble from the frigid cold she was feeling. After just a short glance into each other's eyes, an unspoken permission, the two of them moved completely in sync with one another as always. Natasha pulled off her soaked shirt and then helped Steve remove his. Although the two of them had hardly noticed at the time, all of her wetness from the pouring rain outside had been transferred to him. Still in his lap, she slid off her damp sweatpants and wet underwear, then maneuvered around to get Steve out of his as well. And then, once again, she curled up against him, wrapping her arms around his neck with her forehead tucked under his chin. Steve reached over and drew the sofa blanket off the edge and wrapped it around the two of them. With a sigh of exhaustion, Natasha let the heat of his super soldier body start to warm her. Only Steve had ever brought any warmth to her cold life.

The two of them stayed together for the rest of the night …

Until the first rays of dawn sunlight fell across her face …

/

… then, as now ….

As the first rays of dawn sunlight fell across her face …

Natasha's eyes began to flutter open ...

She remembered falling. Landing. Dying ...

Then, floating, dreaming, remembering ...

The nightmare … the rainy night she had run to Steve …

Steve …

Rain. Falling. Water.

Around her. All around her. All over her.

In the water, slowly, Natasha began to sit up.

Her vision was blurry, but started to clear as she looked around her.

She was laying in a shallow lake. The sun was rising. There was a shore only a few feet away.

Beyond that … a house. One she recognized. She knew exactly where she was.

Her body had no strength, and she struggled to stand. On shaky legs, she wobbled to shore and started up the hill.

—-

Inside the house, Laura Barton was still in mourning. When she and the children had been brought back to her husband Clint, they had discovered that part of the price of their resurrection had been the sacrifice of the life of her foster sister Natasha. Their extended family would never be whole again.

She found herself breaking down into tears at the most odd of times, like now, simply washing dishes after a short Sunday morning breakfast. She needed to pull herself together to get the kids ready for church, and she prayed to The Lord for a little help.

Her prayers had been answered.

The sound of footsteps stumbling onto her wooden porch startled her. Her heart leapt immediately, thinking that Clint must be back from whatever official business he had been tending to once again. She ran to the open screen door … and stopped in her tracks with a gasp.

/

The entirety of the next day passed in a hazy blur for Natasha. Sitting up in the guest bed of the room which the Bartons always thought of as hers, Natasha had first been thoroughly checked out by Maria Hill and a squad of doctors, and had received a miraculous clean bill of perfect health. Still, she was so weak that she felt as if she could barely breathe, but there was no logical explanation for it. She had chosen to stay at the farmhouse instead of being moved to a hospital.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Natasha had received a host of emotionally awestruck visitors all day long. Nick Fury had led the procession, followed by Wanda Maximoff, Pepper Potts and even Thor had returned to Earth from the farthest reaches of space just to see her alive. Pepper told her about Tony and Vision, and she how her sacrifice had led to the team being able to use all the stones to bring everyone back. She had passed out again as she'd taken everything in.

Clint had listened helplessly as, in Natasha's most delirious moments, she would whisper a call for one person in particular.

'Steve.'

Clint was one of the very few people who knew the truth of just how much Steve had always meant to Nat, and he didn't have the heart to tell her about Steve's condition yet.

He didn't know that The Captain's condition would reach its zenith this night.

/

Since his return earlier that day, Steve's health had steadily deteriorated, although he had made certain to show no outward signs to his two best friends. Both Sam and Buck had escorted him to his modest three level home, which Natasha had helped him pick out, along with his car, during their last five years together. He smiled at the memories of her as the three of them slowly made their way up onto his front porch.

"Seriously, guys, I'm fine," Steve said, with Sam's hand on his right shoulder and Buck's hand on his left, both ready to hold him up if his withered frame showed the slightest sign of frailty.

"You've had a long day, Steve," said Sam.

"And done a lot of traveling," added Buck.

"Well, now it's time for this weary soldier to rest. You two are the best brothers, best captains, a guy could ever ask for," Steve told them. "But you have to go now. You have work to do. Both of you. Band of brothers."

The Falcon and The Winter Soldier looked at one another, then back to Steve, and then relented.

With a nod, Steve walked through his door and closed it behind him. He laid his back against the door and struggled to stay on his feet. He hadn't wanted Sam and Buck to see his true condition.

Steve didn't want them to see his last moments on earth.

All that mattered to Steve was that she was alive. He could feel it. Somewhere. Somehow. Nat was back. He sensed that she was part of the reason he was so weak. He was fully ready to sacrifice himself for her life. It was a price he was willing to pay.

If he let anyone know, including Nat, they would try to stop this. He couldn't let that happen. She would live, and he would die.

Christ Jesus had shown the great exchange. As one of His followers, Steve would follow His example.

The time was near. Forcing his legs to move, Steve made his way up the staircase to lay down on top of his bed for the final time.

Weary, Steve closed his eyes. After only a short time, he no longer felt his heart beat, his blood stopped, and his breath left his body.

At first, there was darkness. Then, a light, The Light, began to shine, completely filling his bed, his room, his entire house. Steve opened his spiritual eyes.

He saw seven candles at the head of his bed. In their midst, stood The One. His hair was pure white, His eyes seemed to be aflame, and around His waist lay a belt of gold.

Behind Him, in the heavens, was a great host, innumerable, patiently waiting to ever follow Him.

Steven Grant Rogers prepared to take his place as part of The Light …

—

At that moment, Natasha's eyes fluttered open, but she sat up quickly.

Steve was gone.

He hadn't come to see her, and now she knew why.

Bringing her back had cost him his life.

Natasha had seen up close how far Steve would go to save someone he considered a friend. She had watched him go to the ends of the earth for Barnes, and knew he would do the same for Sam. But, she had never been certain if he had included her in his circle.

She'd always felt that she had no place in the world … until Steve. It was nice to feel that she had somewhere to truly belong. She had come to accept that her place in life was by Steve's side, and she would follow him to the gates of Hell if necessary. Yet, she had never crossed the line to find out if he felt the same for her.

She knew now.

Now, as exactly so long ago on the rainy night memory she had been reliving as she'd revived in the water, Natasha went into an almost stream of consciousness motion. Struggling to stand, although not half as much as before Steve died, she was out like a shot. At this time of night, there was no one awake to stop her.

With only her sweatpants and tank top on, Natasha slipped out of the bedroom, got Laura's keys, and took off in the family's extra car before she had a clear thought.

Natasha knew where he would be. Home. At the house that she, as his fiancée, had picked out. Through a blurry haze of unshed tears, she had a clear memory of how all the realtors constantly assumed she and Steve were a couple, so much so that after the third house, Natasha found it simpler to give them an affirmation than continue trying to explain that they weren't together. She had wondered if the twinkle in Steve's eye was real or imagined.

Nevertheless, for the next seven realtors, they had been "getting married," just as she'd set them up in the computer store so long ago. It had given just a touch of joy to their otherwise sorrowful lives after half the universe had been removed. With his government back pay, Steve would never hurt for funds, and they bought everything to both their likings.

These memories were her only coherent thoughts as she rushed through the streets, her mind vaguely noticing that they were more alive with people than they had been over the last five years.

Just as when she had been running through that forest so long ago, her only thought was of Steve.

/

The house was completely dark when she arrived.

But he was inside. She was certain.

She made short work of the door and then struggled, step by step, up the long staircase. Natasha stopped at Steve's open bedroom door.

This time, his blue eyes weren't there. This time, he wasn't standing there to take her in his arms. This time, he was gone.

His body lay on his bed. On shaking legs, Natasha slowly walked forward toward him. Her eyes were red with pain, blurred with unshed tears.

He was old. All his years had finally caught up to him. Just as Natasha had reached down to Steve in her dream, she reached down now.

At the moment her hand touched his cold skin, everything inside her broke like never before in her life. She couldn't stand, her legs gave way, and she dropped to her knees with a strangled cry of agony torn from her very soul.

His warmth was gone. The coldness of death, with which she had been so familiar all her life, had fallen upon him. Natasha needed Steve's warmth like she needed her next breath.

On her knees, finally, she prayed.

"God, please," she wept. "Jesus, save us."

Laying her head on his bedside, she cried until she could steady herself. Then, suddenly, all the strength left her body, almost as if her spirit had slipped out of her, and she started to lose consciousness.

As she began to drift off, she heard a voice.

"Steven, come forth."

/

The Light woke her. As Natasha's eyes slowly began to open, there was the light of The Son filtering into the room. Looking up, she raised her head to gaze over to the window.

He was there. Standing. The super soldier. The Captain. Her Captain. His muscular frame a glorious silhouette in the beautifully brilliant light of the morning.

Natasha stood, her strength having returned. As he had been completely resurrected, so had she. Walking slowly, she made her way over to him, remembering all the times she had walked to her Steve. The cemetery, the arrest … the church.

Steve turned, longing to see her eyes again. Those beautiful eyes, the last he'd seen them having been with her soft smile, and five words which had been a goodbye.

'See you in a minute.'

Thinking of the exact same moment, Natasha stepped over to stand in front of Steve, the two of them taking a moment to marvel at one another. The majesty of the moment was almost overwhelming. Then, Natasha leaned up to place a kiss on Steve's cheek, and it went wrong … or, finally, right.

The sides of their lips touched. Steve and Natasha paused in unison, then turned more into one another. Their kiss was soft, gentle, an affirmation of life … and love.

When the two of them finally drew back from one another, Steve and Natasha found themselves gazing into each other's eyes.

"That was a long minute," whispered Steve.

"You … came back to do your laundry," Natasha whispered, her voice a broken sob.

"And to see … a friend."

"Clearly," she said, a tear slipping from her eye. "Your friend is fine."

"And I … I didn't want you to be alone," he echoed her words back to her. "Ever again."

Now, as then, the two of them embraced in a tender, warm, heartfelt hug.

"Whatever it takes."

"Whatever it takes."

The Beginning ...


End file.
